


i'm counting on you (i hope you will guide me)

by valentulum



Series: cross my heart and hope to die (1950s au) [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Greasers, F/F, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15425910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valentulum/pseuds/valentulum
Summary: 1950s greaser gang au."she looks so different, so detached from the girl her father always wanted to be. through the short buzz, beau can see the couple of patches where she was clumsy and cut as a child and the hair never grew back. she notices a birthmark near her left temple. even though her face is covered in enough hair to make wigs for a hundred ladies, beau has never loved herself more."yasha shaves beau's head in the dead of night in her kitchen while smoking cigarettes and playing jazz music.





	i'm counting on you (i hope you will guide me)

**Author's Note:**

> mentions (non-graphic) of parental abuse. usage of shaving supplies. teen for language. nothing sexually explicit or major ship content, but future/developing beauyasha is definitely implied.

yasha shaves beau’s head for the first time in her kitchen in the dead of night.

“i just want it gone,” beau says, running a hand through her mid-back length hair, “all of it.”

yasha raises an eyebrow, “all of it?”

“reminds me of my— him. it never belonged to me.”

yasha makes a small hm sound and shrugs. she doesn’t need to know more. beau’s shared little about where she was coming from when yasha recruited her for the circus, but yasha doesn’t mind not knowing. if it was bad enough to leave, it’s bad enough that beau doesn’t need to justify herself.

yasha cuts the length first. she’s sucking on a cigarette while she cuts the hair with both hands. some of it sticks to her stark white t shirt. she moves onto the clippers after the hair falls around beau’s eyebrows.

beau laughs. “sorry, it’s just... it tickles. okay?”

 “it is okay. i would imagine you have never felt this before.” yasha’s speech slightly slurs, as she talks through her cigarette. she’s lit a new one by now.

beau’s not really sure how to respond, so the haircut continues through their silence. yasha has a slow jazz record playing, not one she’s heard before.

finally, yasha has completed the clipperwork. she hands beau a mirror, which is round and has a white frame and the handle feels sturdy in beau’s hand.

_wow._ beau feels like crying. she looks so different, so detached from the girl her father always wanted to be. through the short buzz, beau can see the couple of patches where she was clumsy and cut as a child and the hair never grew back. she notices a birthmark near her left temple. even though her face is covered in enough hair to make wigs for a hundred ladies, beau has never loved herself more.

“do you want me to continue shaving?” yasha asks softly, after giving beau ample time to take her new self in. her arms are crossed across her chest, each hand clasping onto dark navy striped suspenders.

beau, without hesitation, nods. “let’s fucking go.”

yasha puts on a new record, sweeps her kitchen floor of some of the hair, and lights up a cigar before leaving the room and re-emerging with a bowl of shaving soap and a safety razor.

 the shaving soap feels cool on beau’s head, heightened by the sticky summer heat. the brush yasha’s using to apply it has fine bristles, and feels as if it’s being painted onto her head. beau grins at the sensation.

 “so, why do you have all of this shaving stuff? i mean— fuck. you don’t gotta answer. that could be personal. forget i asked.”

 yasha laughs again. “it is okay, beau. i, well, i do not like to have hair on my arms. i know, it is silly, but i enjoy the feeling. how smooth it is.”

 “oh. cool.” beau says.

 “also mollymauk frequently stays here and he enjoys being cleanshaven.”

 yasha makes quick work of the hair that is left on beau’s head. the razor scrapes across her scalp in short and fast strokes, leaving a mild burning sensation behind. when she is finished, yasha applies a liquid that seems to immediately cool beau’s head. it smells amazing, almost indescribable. it’s a clean scent, distinctly masculine, and it reminds beau a bit of the dentist, if the dentist was an enjoyable place to be and he had freshly come from the barber’s.

once again, beau is handed the mirror. it’s not quite as jarring as before, but it still boggles beau’s mind to see her face, her somewhat oddly shapen but still quite attractive (in her opinion) face mixed with the brashness and exoticly bald head. she runs a hand over her head and can feel a slight prickle in one direction and completely smooth skin in the opposite. beau rubs back and forth, marvelling at the duelling sensations.

“having fun?” yasha says. she is leaned back against her counter. the cigar rests between her index and middle fingers. she makes tiny little smoke rings in the air.

 beau turns to look at her. she’s struck with how beautiful yasha is, even in the greenish tungsten glow of the poorly lit kitchen. the shadows cast from above make yasha look even more angular than she already is. her muscles seem accentuated as well.

“i’m...” beau’s at a loss for words. she pauses, for half a second, before closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms firmly around yasha’s core.

yasha freezes, her hands raised awkwardly. she was clearly not expecting beau to do _this_.

“thank you. so fucking much. i’m not the best with words and you’re not the best with words but jesus h. christ you’re incredible and i don’t know how to repay you.”

 yasha moves her chin to rest on beau’s head, hands still raised. “i... um. well. i do not need repayment. i am happy to do this, for you, beau.”

beau leans her head back a little, looking up at yasha. her hair is coming loose from it’s carefully styled pompadour and flopping into her eyes and she has a little bit of beau’s hair on her cheek and a black stain that look like it may be grease or something completely different. _she’s so fucking beautiful_ , beau thinks.

 beau thinks for a moment, then says, “your hair looks real funny,” then promptly detaches herself from yasha, grabs her jacket, and waltzes out the door before yasha has time to process what happened.

  _t_ _hat fuckin’ kid._

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this au in the beauyasha discord and am porting it over here. may have errors, may be short, i don't really care. i love playing with ideas about these characters in new universes, but i fell in love with this one enough to write a short one-shot. there may be more to come, depending on my drive and my interest.
> 
> title from elvis presley's "i'm counting on you"


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